The Devil's bed

“Information is power,” she continued. “Any organization with power and that operates under a cloak of secrecy and darkness becomes a breeding ground for monstrous abuse, no matter how good-intentioned the goals are initially. In the isolated beauty of his orchards, away from the microphones and the cameras, Tom Jorgenson accomplished miracles. William Dixon used NOMan in a different, brutal way. I think we’ll find as we dig deeper that NOMan has been used to advance all kinds of agendas, personal and political.

“The roots run deep, Agent Thorsen. The tendrils are widespread. We have a long, hard struggle ahead of us, but thanks to you, I’m confident we’ll be able to deliver a good old-fashioned butt-kicking.” She crossed the room and stood beside Bo’s bed. “The president sends his greetings, and has asked me personally to express to you his profound gratitude.” She offered Bo her hand. “As for me, I’m just glad you’re on our side.”

chapter forty-eight

Lorna Channing opened the door to the Oval Office. “He’ll see you now, Senator.”

William Dixon came in, grinning as if he’d just arrived at a barbecue in his honor. “Well, well,” he said, seeing the president and the First Lady standing together. “Now there’s a lovely family portrait. Good to have you back, Katie. Brought Stephanie home, I hope. I’ve missed that little girl.”

“Sit down,” the president said.

“Thank you, I believe I will. The leg’s been acting up a bit lately. Keeps me awake at night sometimes.” The senator eased himself onto the couch and settled his cane beside him. “Know what I do at night when I can’t sleep, Clayboy? I lie there remembering. Couldn’t tell you what I had for dinner last night, but I can tell you the color of your mother’s dress the first time we met. Blue, just like a Colorado sky.” He stared at the rug a moment, as if he were seeing woven among the threads an image from nearly sixty years before. Then he lifted his dark eyes toward his son. “I remember a lot of strange old things at night. I remember the first man I ever saw die. A kid named Jorge Rodriguez. From Spanish Harlem. A Jap sniper put a bullet right there.” He touched a spot below his left eye. “That was on my first day in the Philippines. I saw a lot more kids die after that. Too many to remember them all.”

“That’s war, Senator,” the president said.

“Know what I would like, Clay? I would like it if you called me Dad.”

“This isn’t-” the president began.

“I know what this isn’t.”

William Dixon looked steadily at his son, then at his daughter-in-law. Behind him, in that long moment of silence that fell over the room, Channing very quietly opened the door to the Oval Office.

“I’d like to tell you a story,” the First Lady said.

“I’m all ears, Katie.” William Dixon looked up at her with an indulgent smile.

“In Minnesota, the Ojibwe used to tell of a monster that sometimes came out of the woods to prey on villages. It was called the Windigo, a terrible beast with a heart of ice who fed on the flesh of the Ojibwe people. Because it was so large and so fierce, it terrified even the bravest warrior. There was only one way you could fight the Windigo. You had to become a Windigo yourself, submit to whatever dark magic was necessary to turn you into an ogre, too. But there was an awful risk. You had to be sure that someone who loved you was waiting with hot tallow for you to drink after you killed the monster. The hot tallow would melt your icy heart and bring you back down to the size of other people. If there was no one to help you in that way, you ended up staying a Windigo. You became forever the thing you set out to destroy.”

“Interesting story, Katie, but I’m afraid the point missed me.”

“I want you to know I forgive you, Bill. It’s my way of offering hot tallow.”

He stared up at her with an uncomprehending look. “That’s wonderful, really. But I still don’t understand.”

“NOMan,” Clay Dixon said.

The senator’s eyes swung toward his son, and for an instant, his face seemed to soften. “That’s a pretty chilly tone. You sound like a man whose heart is ice.”

The president said, “I’ve ordered a suspension of all functions performed by National Operations Management, and mandatory administrative leave for NOMan personnel.”

“That’s quite a layoff. It could alienate a lot of voters.”

“Even as we speak, evidence is being gathered by federal law enforcement agencies. I anticipate a number of indictments against key government officials, both inside and outside NOMan.”

“Evidence of what? Indictments on what charges?”

“We both know what I’m talking about. National Operations Management, or NOMan as you seem to prefer it be called, operates from a much different agenda than its mandate calls for. From what we’re uncovering, it’s evident that NOMan has worked for decades in a covert manner to influence events of national scope and importance. Let me be clear. By covert, I’m speaking of nothing less than murder.